


Comes Around Again

by tontontonberry



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death Fix, Fix-It, Found Family, Gen, Happy Ending, Molly will not be a mushroom fajita forever, Molly's past comes back after him but not the way he feared, Resurrection, but still trying to follow canon mostly, coming back from the dead is not easy and is hella awkward, just this once everybody gets to live, keg helps save the day, lots of tieflings, people getting taken care of, shitty weather, there's a nerd and he wants to meet Caleb, tiefling solidarity
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-28
Updated: 2018-12-06
Packaged: 2019-09-01 15:24:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16767811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tontontonberry/pseuds/tontontonberry
Summary: In which Keg follows clues and sets things into motion. In which the good Molly and the Mighty Nein have done comes back to reward them. In which Molly (eventually) finds his way home. In which, just this once, everybody gets to live.





	1. In Which Keg Follows A Trail

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written fic in years, but this story's been sticking strongly enough to happen. Many thanks to QueenWithABeeThrone, CatKing_Catkin, and all the other wonderful Critical Role fic writers who have given me the example and inspiration to write for myself.

Keg thinks she might be losing her mind.

No one entirely right in the head sees dead tieflings in the middle of Shady Creek Run. Especially when she goes for a second look and there’s no purple to be seen in the crowd of browns and greens.

It’s probably the guilt making her see things. Or the alcohol she’s been drinking. Or both.

Shitty mental state or no, there’s nothing left for her here. The Mighty Nein don’t need her anymore, and Shakaste and his charges are already long gone. One more night of sleep in the brothel was more than enough time in this shithole. Time to scram before the Jagentoths figure out she was involved.

\---

Keg’s crossing the plaza when she sees it: a flash of purple on the periphery that draws her eyes before she even thinks about it. She turns in time to see a head of purple hair with curled horns disappear through the front door of the Plaza Emporium.

The fuck.

Is he really here? Were Caleb and Beau right to leave a note with a dead body?

If so, Molly is _shit_ at following directions.

Keg hurries to the inn, a gust of cold wind following her in through the doors. The Plaza Emporium’s interior is plain and not particularly welcoming, but it’s warm. A half-orc man cleans glasses behind a dark wood bar, and a midnight blue dragonborn woman sits behind a large desk by the fireplace. Keeping in mind the proprietor’s somewhat-murderous reputation, Keg awkwardly approaches the desk, clearing her throat to catch the attention of the innkeeper. The woman stops eyeing two drunkards in the corner and looks down at Keg, barely making eye contact before speaking in a bored tone.

“Rooms are one gold a night.”

“Uh, no thanks, actually.” Keg goes to fiddle with her cigarette before remembering she’s already chewed through her last one. She settles on awkwardly scratching her chin instead. “I was looking for a… purple tiefling? Red eyes? Curled horns? He, uh,” She falters, scrambling for a reason to find him other than _he died and if he came back from that he shouldn’t be wandering around here._ “I owe him money.” It’s even true. The twenty gold he’d given her is still burning a hole in her pocket.

Her feeble-sounding explanation is met with a raised eyebrow ridge. “I see.” The innkeeper leans forward, towering over Keg and desk both. “And if I tell you I’ve seen them and I find their dead body in one of my rooms? I shouldn’t have to tell you that’s bad for business.”

Keg backs up a step. “Shit, no! He’s a fr- I really do owe him money!”

The innkeeper stares at her for a good thirty seconds before she settles back in her chair. “Good. No turf wars in my inn and we’ll get along fine.” Sparing a glance back at the corner, she pulls a ledger closer and writes something down. “I’ve seen your purple tiefling. If you wait a couple hours you might be able to save your coin. There’s been too many damn fool questions and the Jagentoths have been touchy the past few days.”

Gods _dammit_ , Molly. Did dying make him forget who funded the Iron Shepherds?! Or subtlety in general?!

…though now that she thinks about it, he and subtlety probably weren’t on speaking terms to begin with.

Still, _dammit_.

“Is he staying here?”

“As long as they’re paying, yes.” The innkeeper keeps writing, not even looking at Keg anymore.

“Which room?”

“If you want to go banging on doors, knock yourself out. But I’m not passing out _that_ much customer information.”

Keg rolls her shoulders, feeling her armor resettle as she does. “Thanks.” Looks like that’s all she’s going to get, but with luck it’ll be enough.

“Don’t come crying to me if you get stabbed.”

Keg grimaces and turns to find her way to the room that, hopefully, contains one Mollymauk Tealeaf.

There’s a door toward the back of the common room that opens up onto a dimly lit hallway with doors along one side. At the far end of the hallway she can see another door that likely leads out back.

She’s not alone.

As the door swings shut behind her, one of the room doors cracks under a human man’s boot. He kicks at the handle again and this time she hears something metallic break. Two other humans stand behind the first, daggers clutched in their fists.

All three of them wear leather armor bearing the Jagentoth family crest.

Keg carefully slides back a step, reaching for her axe.

The men fling the broken door open, starting to rush in, and right as Keg is about to launch herself at them, they back up with a quiet chorus of confused noises.

“It’s empty!”

“You said you saw them come in!”

“I did! The little shit’s _purple_ , it was obvious!”

“Well they’re not fucking _in here_ , we need to scram before – “

One of the men turns toward Keg, and she’s already swearing internally at being spotted when the door from the inn proper abruptly swings open, blocking her from view.

A deep voice fills the sudden silence. “The proprietor of this fine establishment wants to know why it sounds like someone’s trying to break in and shank a customer on her property. No one should be _stupid_ enough to do it, but here y’all are.”

There’s dead silence in the hall. Keg holds her breath, hoping that she hasn’t made enough noise to be noticed.

“Now I _suggest_ y’all slink back outta here before she finds out you broke a lock _and_ her rules.”

There’s a moment of silence, then footsteps. The sound of a door being opened.

“And send some other fuck back with payment for the door!”

There’s what might be a shout of agreement before Keg hears a door close.

With a grumble about keys, Keg’s unknowing savior leaves, closing the door behind him.

He could come back at any time, so Keg decides to keep her investigation quick. A gust of cold air slaps her in the face as she enters the room, making her shiver. It’s a small room, with a single bed and a table under the open window. Drawing closer, she sees a small key on the table with a scrap of paper attached to it.

Taking her glasses out would take longer than she’s willing to spend, so Keg settles for holding the note close to her nose and squinting. In neat but hurried handwriting is written _‘Here’s the key. Sorry!’_

… is this Molly’s handwriting? Fuck if she knows.

Placing the key back on the table, Keg leans out the window. The thin layer of dirty snow on the ground below the window is disturbed, a trail trampled through it toward the stable behind the inn.

Hearing footsteps in the hallway, Keg thinks _fuck it_ and hoists herself out the window, hitting the ground with a clatter and rolling to the side. She follows the trail to the stable at a jog.

The stable is redolent with the smell of hay and horse, but other than a handful of horses that nicker at Keg’s passing it’s empty. She lets her head thunk against a wooden post as she tries to think.

If Molly was asking about the Jagentoths, he was probably trying to find where the Iron Shepherds were. And the only places someone would point him to would be Sour Nest or possibly The Trench. If he went out the window he must realize there’s people gunning for him. Would he go for the tavern or for the home base?

A memory bubbles up, an accented voice and a face tight with worry. ‘ _We don’t leave people behind, that’s the deal._ ’

He’d go for where he thinks his friends are. The Sour Nest it is. Keg takes off at a trot. With any luck, she’ll find him before anyone else does.

\---

The ash-purple trees of the Savalier Wood tower over the cart path, reaching across to form a leafy tunnel. Patches of cloudy sky peek through the canopy, and a cold breeze periodically sends leaves tumbling to the ground below. The snow on the path is trampled, multiple ruts and footprints making it impossible to tell how many were coming or going. Keg knows that animals live in these woods, has seen them herself, but she can’t hear anything but the crunch of the dirty snow under her boots and the rattle of dry leaves as she hurries along.

She’s coming up on a curve in the road when the silence is broken by shouting and the clash of metal on metal. Biting back a curse, she breaks into a run. The shouting, some of it foreign and strangely sibilant to her ears, gets louder as she goes around the bend.

The scene she comes upon is more crowded than she’d expected. Several horses shy away from a small cluster of combatants, neighing frantically. Four humans in Jagentoth leathers are wielding their shortswords against three other figures.

Keg barely registers the first two – one tall and one short – as ‘not Molly,’ gaze drawn to the third. He’s a blur of flashing scimitars, dancing away from a blow and darting back in for a swipe of his own.

He doesn’t seem to notice the man coming from behind.

Keg is a blur, rocketing forward thinking nothing but _no, not again_. Her weapons are in her hands, the familiar swinging weight of Yuto’s medallion absent for the first time in years.

Molly turns from the dead grunt in front of him, too slow, too late. The human has his sword drawn back for a thrust when Keg’s axe splits his head open. Her hammer follows immediately after, finishing the job .

As the body falls Keg feels a sudden sharp line across the back of her neck, but when she turns she sees that the last two Jagentoth goons have fallen. Her blood is still pumping with adrenaline, and she turns to shout at Molly. At stupid, heroic Molly who’d _died_ and been mourned by his friends only to apparently get up and walk right into danger _again._

“Molly, what the _fuck?!_ Zadash is the other way! Can you not fucking read?! Are you trying to get killed _again?!_ ”

He stumbles back from her, eyes wide and empty of recognition. When he responds, his voice sounds slightly strangled.

“Who’s _Molly_?”


	2. In Which Keg is the Bearer of Good News

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the kudos and bookmarks and comments! Knowing that people enjoy my writing is such a boost!  
> Not a lot physically going on this chapter, but if y'all didn't like people talking y'all wouldn't like Critical Role, so. :Db

The last time Keg saw Mollymauk Tealeaf was when they buried him. She’d tried to sear his face into her memory then, a reminder of just how badly she’d fucked up.

Now, Keg finally _looks_ at the tiefling in front of her and realizes that no, this isn’t Molly. There’s no peacock feathers twining up the side of his face, no eye-searing coat. The face staring back at her without recognition is far, far too young. This… _child_ in front of her has that coltish, unfinished look of someone who hasn’t finished growing.

This isn’t Molly.

Molly is still dead and buried by the side of Glory Run Road.

She was an idiot for ever hoping otherwise. Redemption for getting him killed wasn’t going to be that easy.

The kid has gone from looking scared to looking worried and she can’t handle looking at his face anymore. All she can see is a different pair of red eyes staring unseeing at the sky.

Keg turns to leave and nearly runs into what has to be the tiniest tiefling she’s ever seen. The girl’s gold eyes – not red, thank the gods – are nearly on level with hers.

The girl smiles at Keg and practically chirps, “Thanks for the help! Sorry about that!” before circling around Keg and going to fuss over the not-Molly boy.

They speak too quietly to hear properly, but Keg catches something like “I _killed_ him” and Keg feels slightly ill. Was this their first fight? ...and why is the girl not shaken up by this? …Is she some kind of tiny assassin?

Keg’s eyes are drawn to the rapier at the girl’s side, which is still bloodied.

…hang on.

Keg reaches up to touch the back of her neck, fingers coming back bloody. Then the pain right after killing the Jagentoth goon must have come from…

Keg takes a moment to ponder the fact that she _nearly fucking died._

She can see her epitaph now: _Here lies Keg. She died as she lived: a dumbass that doesn’t announce what side she’s on before jumping into a fight._

Beau would probably get a laugh out of that.

…she misses Beau.

Keg shakes herself out of that line of thought before it can go any further. The two tieflings are now holding a hushed conversation with a _very_ tall half-orc. Keg looks over her shoulder and, yep, that must be the third figure she’d seen during the fight. When Keg turns to face them, she finds three pairs of eyes trained on her.

It’s the half-orc that speaks up, her voice surprisingly soft. “Thank you for your help. Will you be able to get back to town on your own? We need to get moving.”

Keg nearly blurts out ‘where are you going’ before realizing that, while she had gotten the identity of _who_ she was following wrong, she’s probably still right about _where_ they’re going. And considering the state the Jagentoths must be in after losing the Iron Shepherds, going to the Sour Nest right now is probably a _death sentence_.

Even standing her full height, she’s barely half the half-orc’s height, so Keg tries to express authority with just her voice. “You can’t go to the Sour Nest now. It’s a suicide mission.”

“How did you-“ The half-orc shakes her head. “We have to go. It doesn’t matter how dangerous it is.”

The small girl pipes in, wiping the blood off her rapier with a handkerchief. “No one in town managed to convince us not to, and neither can you.”

Keg starts to reach for a nonexistent cigarette again, scruffing her hair in frustration when she realizes. “No, I’m _serious_! It’s probably crawling with Jagentoth goons by now, you’ll fucking _die_.”

There’s some kind of conversation conducted between the three through eye contact, and the girl speaks up again, young face solemn. “They have our cousin. We’re not leaving without him. It doesn’t matter how dangerous it is.”

A rescue mission? For people already rescued – oh _fuck_ , why didn’t she lead with that?

“Look, I don’t know who your cousin is, but everyone in the Sour Nest is gone. I mean. Rescued. We – someone already went through and took care of the Iron Shepherds. So there’s no point in going now.”

She barely finishes speaking before the boy blurts out, “Shax is safe?! Where – How do you know?” In the back of her mind Keg can’t help but note that his accent is different than Molly’s.

Rather than actually make eye contact, Keg looks at his cheek. The lack of tattoos helps remind her who she’s talking to.

“I know the guys who went in and did it. I…I was there, too. The Iron Shepherds are dead, and the people inside are on their way home.”

They’re all looking at her as if staring hard enough will let them know if she’s being truthful. There’s a look of faint hope on their faces – like they want to believe her but can’t quite let themselves do it.

“Did you see a small human boy?” The half-orc asks, with the girl immediately adding, “Curly hair, green eyes? He’s only six, did you see him?”

Keg thinks back to the dark basement, the trek through rooms of cages and torture implements. She remembers the room where they found Shakaste, and the dwarf with his arms around a small curly-haired child. She nods.

“Yeah, I saw a kid like that. We got him and the dwarf guy out.”

“Dwarf guy?” The boy echoes. “Who?”

“He must be adopting already!” The girl gives a slightly strained laugh. “I’m so proud!” The half-orc leans over and lays a hand on her shoulder, and she sags into it a little. The taller woman looks back up at Keg.

“You said he’s on his way home. If you’re not the one taking him there, who is?”

“Shakaste took all the people we found with him. He’s, uh, he’s an old cleric. Human, dark skin, white hair. …has a tiny bird?” Keg sees the boy mouth ‘tiny bird?’ with a confused expression. Probably for the best that she didn’t mention the floating statue.

There’s a palpable change in the air around the group, their body language relaxing significantly. Keg hadn’t even realized just how on edge they were until the tension eased. Whatever proof of her honesty they were looking for, they seem to have found it.

The girl bounds up to Keg, reaching out to seize one of her hands. “ _Thank_ you. I don’t know if we could have done it ourselves, and you didn’t even know him and you _saved_ him.” She jiggles their joined hands. “Thank you so much.” She pauses. “What’s your name? I’m Nemeia.”

Keg wiggles their hands in an approximation of a handshake, unsure how else to respond to such effusive thanks. “I’m Keg. Like for booze or powder.”

“Pleased to meet you, Keg!” Nemeia releases her hand and backs up a step, gesturing behind her. “This is my brother Iados, and this is Keth!” The boy – _Iados_ waves, and Keth nods.

“Hey.” There’s a slightly awkward pause, and Keg shifts from foot to foot. “So…what are you guys gonna do now?”

“Well… if Shax is already safe and heading home…” Nemeia looks up at the other two. “I guess we head home, too?” They nod, and she smiles at Keg.

Sudden as a lightning strike, Keg gets an idea and rushes to say it before she loses her nerve. “Look. I, uh, I know we just met, but. I can help make sure you get home safe? I can kick ass, and it can be pretty rough around here.”

There’s a moment where they just blink at her, confused. She’s about ready to consign herself back to aimless wandering when Nemeia speaks up.

“Are you sure? Don’t you need to meet up with your friends?” She looks concerned, and Keg tries to not give away the sting her question causes. The Mighty Nein liked her well enough, but she’s not _one_ of them. She can’t be.

She tries to sound casual, but it comes out in awkward stammers instead. “We, uh, they had their own shit to do. I’m, I can do whatever right now.”

Nemeia still looks worried, so Keg looks away, making eye contact with Keth instead. The look on her face is…understanding. Like she can see right through the stammering to the raw feeling behind it. Keg’s not sure how to handle that so she looks away and – nope, not looking at Iados, that’s an even worse idea. Back to Nemeia it is.

Conveniently, Nemeia’s the one to speak up. “Well, in that case, we’d love to travel with you! The more the merrier!” She claps her hands together and turns to Keth. “I’ll check the guys for anything nice?”

Keth shrugs, a half-smile tugging at her lips. “You’ve got the bag.”

Nemeia almost bounces past Keg in a blur of skirts and curly hair. Iados and Keth also start walking past her, with Iados catching her attention. Keg has to force herself to not immediately look away from him. “Do you have a horse in town? We have an extra if you need one.”

Are the horses still at the Landlocked Lady or has someone stolen them by now?

Someone’s _definitely_ stolen them by now.

“Yeah, I’m gonna need one.”

Iados points towards a pair of saddled horses that are nosing at the underbrush. “Which one do you want?”

Keth is leading three more horses toward them, and Keg just has to ask. “Why do you have five horses?” Were some of them from the Jagentoth goons? She looks around and can’t see any others. Maybe they ran off?

Keth laughs, patting the nose of one of the horses. “We found those two, actually. Just wandering out of the woods! Can’t believe nothing ate them, honestly.”

There’s the patter of feet behind Keg, and then Nemeia is bustling by again. “They just had money!” She honestly sounds disappointed. “You can hold it, Keth!” Coins clink as the money changes hands, and Keg busies herself with shortening the stirrups on one of the horses.

“Do you need any help?” Why couldn’t this kid be more standoffish? It would be easier for Keg to avoid him.

…Although if she’s going to get _this_ purple tiefling home in one piece, she’d better get used to looking at him. Maybe if she pays attention to what’s different, he’ll stop being unsettling?

This time she looks at his ear. Close enough to pretend she’s making eye contact, right? No piercings there. Molly had earrings, she thinks? As distinctive as his look was, the details are escaping her.

“Uh…is there something on my…?” Iados awkwardly bats at his ear, and Keg gives up eye contact as a bad job and goes back to wrestling with a buckle.

“Nope! Sorry, nothing wrong, just, uh, I’m good!” Oh right, politeness. “…Thanks?”

“You’re…welcome?” He shuffles off, and the buckle in Keg’s hands finally cooperates.

“Keg!”

Keg just about jumps out of her own skin, spinning around to find a beaming Nemeia holding up another handkerchief.

“I was just thinking, since we don’t need to go to the Sour Nest now – “ She flicks a finger at Keg and says…something harsh yet sibilant that Keg can’t make heads or tails of. The itching cut on the back of her neck abruptly stops bothering her. She shakes her head a little, expecting at least some kind of twinge because of the placement, but there’s nothing.

Nemeia reaches over and blots up the blood on Keg’s neck, pulling back with a flourish. “Good as new!”

She knows she won’t feel anything, but Keg prods at the back of her neck anyway. “You some kind of cleric or something?” First Caduceus, then Shakaste, how many clerics are running around?

Nemeia shakes her head. “Oh no, our uncle’s the cleric! I’m a bard!” She holds up the edge of her cloak, revealing a lute strapped to her back.

“Bards can heal?” Had Ruzza been able to heal at a distance like that? Keg can’t remember.

“A little bit! And if I’m too tired, I’ve got my healer’s kit.” Nemeia gestures to the satchel hanging by her side. “So no matter what, I can take care of you!” The smile she directs at Keg is bright and kind and confident, and Keg can’t help but wonder how long she’ll be able to maintain it when the world has places like Shady Creek Run in it.

“Nemeia.” They both turn to see Keth and Iados looking solemn. Keth continues, “Do you think one horse will be enough?”

Nemeia looks confused, and then her smile fades, lips pressed together into a trembling line. She nods jerkily, not speaking for a moment. When she opens her mouth, her voice has an ever so faint tremble to it. “Amir knows how to share.”

The other two both nod, Iados looking on the verge of tears, and they tie a lead between two of the horses.

Keg is, quite frankly, confused.

“Uh, who’s Amir?” Maybe the explanation will make sense of the rest of it?

Iados won’t look up from the horses, and Keth has leaned down with a hand on his shoulder to whisper something Keg can’t hear.

Nemeia looks at Keg with something like surprise. “Oh. Right. Amir…Amir’s our cousin, too. We…” She takes a deep breath and smiles in a way that’s almost, _almost_ convincing. “We’ll need to pick them up on the way home.”

…something’s up with this cousin. Keg isn’t sure _what_ it is, but she can tell it’s there. She’d ask more, dig into why there’s tears and fake smiles, but…well. She just met them ten minutes ago. She’ll leave them their secrets. It’s not like Keg isn’t hiding anything, either.

She pretends to believe them and nods. “Cool. Lucky those horses wandered up, then.”

Nemeia nods back and there’s a few awkward seconds of wordless nodding between them before a snowball collides with Nemeia’s shoulder. She squawks in surprise, turning toward the culprit with the most overdone look of affront Keg’s ever seen.

“Let’s go home!” Iados calls from atop his horse, shaking bits of snow off his fingers. “This town sucks!”

Keg lets out a bark of laughter. “You’ve got that right, kid. Let’s get you home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SORRY FOR GETTING Y'ALL'S HOPES UP but Molly will not be a mushroom fajita forever, Keg has already set the pieces into motion! And as for why there is a smol not-Molly? Well, in-story you'll just have to wait and find out, but the out-of-story reason is that coping takes many forms and then those coping pastiches become plot points.  
> Also, those two horses? Fernando and Waterloo. They rolled real good on survival checks despite having tiny horsie brains. Thank you Caduceus.

**Author's Note:**

> Answers will be given and please keep in mind the Happy Ending tag! It is a tag you can trust!


End file.
